(Intro)

Corner of a dim-lit room,

A saxophone began to resume.

Not for the crowd, but for the air,

Each note a fragment placed with care.

(Verse 1)

I once belonged to a man named Ray,

His hands told stories I couldn’t betray.

Through bustling clubs and streets alive,

I sang his dreams; I helped him thrive.

But Ray loved risk, the kind that stings,

Dice and cards and the weight they bring.

One bad night, a deal went wrong,

And I was pawned to pay for his song.

(Chorus)

Play me slow, hear my plea,

I’m more than brass, I’m history.

A thousand nights, a million hands,

I’m a relic of forgotten bands.

(Verse 2)

Next, I met Clara, her heart a storm,

Her breath was fire; her touch was warm.

She played for souls lost in their drink,

Her blues so heavy, it made them think.

But life pressed hard, and her fingers froze,

Her sorrow grew where the whiskey flows.

I cried for her in a key so low,

Till silence claimed what I couldn’t show.

(Verse 3)

Now I sit here, my sheen turned dull,

But my heart is full, my stories pull.

A young girl comes, her eyes so bright,

She picks me up, and her grip feels right.

She plays no blues, no jazz refined,

Just a tune that frees what’s trapped inside.

I feel alive; I feel her dreams,

A melody fresh, like rushing streams.

(Chorus)

Play me slow, hear my plea,

I’m more than brass, I’m history.

A thousand nights, a million hands,

I’m a relic of forgotten bands.

(Outro)

Each note a mark, each tune a breath,

Life moves forward, though I’ve known death.

In her hands, I’m no museum piece,

I’m reborn, I’ve found my peace.